But their rest would have been less easy had they known that all which had passed between them that night had been overheard, and was being treasured up for future use.
CHAPTER XVIII.
A SNAKE IN THE GRASS.
"... Warily
I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
And overheard what you shall overhear."
Love's Labours Lost, Act V. sc. ii.
Ranger's homestead had been erected on a clearing, in the midst of what at one period was a well-wooded stretch of country, thickly overgrown with the pine, balsam, maple, and other trees indigenous to the soil, interspersed with a rich undergrowth of luxuriant vegetation, the alternate growth and reproduction of ages.
The rear of this house, which all this wealth and prodigality of nature's productions extended up to, had been left untouched by the axe or saw of the invader, except where a narrow path had been cleared to admit of easy access to a patch of garden-ground beyond. Here and there a trailing creeper had been captured, until it seemed to have become part and parcel of the dwelling itself, so that at times it was not easy to decide where the house ended and the scrub or wood began.
If Ranger and his companion had been less intent upon the subject of their conversation, their attention might have been attracted by a suspicious movement, which occasionally agitated the undergrowth not far from where they were seated. It passed, however, unnoticed.
It was dark when they closed their conversation and entered into the house.
When, however, all was quiet around, the figure of a man might have been seen stealing stealthily away from amidst the thick bush which lay within a few feet of where the two men had been holding converse, and making towards a log-shanty, dimly discernible in the darkness on a piece of rising-ground beyond the circle forming the enclosure of the homestead.
It was the abode of the Bartons; and Charles, the younger of the two brothers, was the figure from the wood now to be seen entering the door.